By SARA STEWART
“For my family, Koreatown is sort of like the Death Star — if we get anywhere within a mile or two of it we end up getting sucked in,” says Ben Ryder Howe, author of the new book “My Korean Deli.” “And this can happen at any hour,” Howe adds. “That’s one of the peculiarities of Korean businesses in New York. For many of them, being open 24 hours is a cultural thing. It’s the aversion to laziness — once you open a business, you can never close. That’s the most endearing thing to me about it, that you can go get barbecue at 6 in the morning.” But, says Howe, Manhattan’s bustling, perma-open Koreatown was not always thus. “One of the really interesting things about 32nd Street is that it was a really scary block,” says the author. “It had all these really famous welfare hotels on it. It’s been transformed over the past 20 years.” Howe, who married into a Korean family, is a journalist who’s written for The New Yorker and the Atlantic Monthly. “My Korean Deli” is a memoir of living on Staten Island, commuting to his job at the Paris Review on the Upper East Side, and working nights at the Brooklyn deli he owns with his wife. This is his Koreatown.

Christian Johnston

Kum Gang San, 49 W. 32nd St., at Broadway
We eat here two or three times a month. It’s named after a mountain in North Korea. And when you walk in that’s sort of how you feel — you climb up a steep set of stairs. There’s a two-story waterfall next to the door, and people throw pennies in it. This place is the best. They let you store your stuff in plastic garment bags so you don’t walk out smelling like barbecue meat. Because you really do. They give you a lot of free appetizers. Pickled stuff. There’s one thing, it’s like really tiny little anchovies, so small you can barely see them. They’re salted and sweetened. I don’t eat them, but my kids love them.

Christian Johnston

Woorijip, 12 W. 32nd St., between Fifth Avenue and Broadway
It’s a cafeteria, basically, not a fancy place at all. When my wife goes there she gets these two things: the fish cake soup and then something called duk boki — it’s sort of like giant pieces of spaghetti in a really hot pepper sauce. Devastatingly hot. She loves it. It’s sort of street food.

Christian Johnston

Kang Suh, 1250 Broadway, at 32nd St.
My wife’s family goes here for one thing: the cold buckwheat noodle soup. I think they’re known for that. It’s like the special thing there.

Christian Johnston

Juvenex Spa, 25 W. 32nd St., between Fifth Avenue and Broadway
This place is open 24 hours a day. In case you wake up at 4 a.m. and need a seaweed wrap. They’ve been around for a really long time. They’re very popular with Koreans and non-Koreans. They have a couple of different saunas, and they do massage treatments. They have men’s hours and women’s hours. It’s a cool place.

Christian Johnston

Mé Bar, La Quinta Inn, 17 W. 32nd St., between Fifth Avenue and Broadway
Mé Bar is a fun place with cheap drinks, and the Empire State Building is so close you actually feel like it’s a character hanging out at the bar: this big tall lonely guy lurking at the edge of the crowd, sipping a colorful cocktail.

Christian Johnston

Han Ah Reum Supermarket, 25 W. 32nd St.,between Fifth Avenue and Broadway
This used to be one of the only places where you could buy things like sweet-and-salty dried anchovies (with the heads on) in New York, but now Han Ah Reum is “H-Mart” and has outlets everywhere from Edison to Great Neck. The one on 32nd Street is no-frills and kind of funky. Do not block the aisles while looking idly at the selection of ramen noodles or an ajuma (Korean housewife) will mow you down on her way to the sale on fish cakes in aisle six.